


Old Holidays

by songs_of_the_moon



Category: Hannibal (TV), Star Trek
Genre: Dark Humor, Gen, Gore, Implied Cannibalism, actual cannibalism, sort of, universe fusion, you don't actually have to know anything about Star Trek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-15 16:09:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1311004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songs_of_the_moon/pseuds/songs_of_the_moon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Chesapeake Ripper expands his horizons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Holidays

There was no such thing as a perfect society. It was a fact Will Graham knew well; even with all the advances that Humans had made, and all the other cultures those advances allowed them to interact with, violence was still a fact of life. Murder, while not as common as just one hundred years ago, still happened. Proof of that was displayed in front of Will now.

The flesh from the corpse’s sternum to pelvis had been peeled back and pinned down, like a butterfly in a case. The ribs were intact, but the heart was missing, as was the liver and a neat chunk of flesh from the thigh. The eyes had been stitched shut. A pool of dried blood—black, but with a faint green shimmer, like an oil slick—surrounded the body.

The pendulum swung behind Will’s eyes, erasing blood and careful, surgical cuts. He came up behind the Vulcan, snapped his neck before his victim had time to react. He laid the body out carefully and took up his tools. He was an artist, elevating mere flesh and blood to beauty. The green that stained his hands was unfamiliar but not unwelcome. He was willing to try a new medium for his work.

“Is it him?” Jack Crawford loomed over Will’s shoulder.

“Yeah, it’s him.”

“He’s never killed a Vulcan before,” Jack rumbled skeptically.

Will shrugged. “First time for everything.” The Ripper had killed aliens in the past—three Ferengi and a Klingon, that they knew of. They had hoped for some DNA evidence at the Klingon crime scene, but all they had found under his fingernails was shreds of plastic.

“Can you tell me why?” Jack crossed his arms and scowled at the crowd of rubber-neckers, held back by old fashioned police tape.

“He’s…” Will took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I think he’s expanding his horizons.”

“That’s pretty weird,” Beverly Katz noted, crouching beside Will with her tools at hand.

“There’s something symbolic in the way the body’s been posed,” Will muttered.

“This set-up looks familiar,” Katz said. Jack gave her an expectant look. “I took a class on Vulcan ancient history when I was at university. I remember seeing holos of cave paintings, and one of them looked a lot like this. It was a ritual sacrifice, supposed to ensure good hunting in the year to come.”

Jack snorted. “Good hunting.”

Will stifled laughter at the gallows humor.

***

The world was being slowly swallowed up by snow.

Wagner played softly throughout the home of Hannibal Lecter. The man in question was at his kitchen sink, washing up after his dinner.

The meat had been bitter, with an unpleasant metallic aftertaste. The green tinge had remained even after cooking, which made Hannibal vaguely uneasy. It put him in mind of rot and mold even though he knew the meat was fresh. Still, the color had paired nicely with the vibrantly red cranberry sauce.


End file.
